


un-needed metaphors

by preromantics



Category: Community
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:31:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein metaphors need to be changed, Abed has trouble thinking right when Troy is touching him, Abed takes a punch, and there are references to Spiderman. <i>It's really important that Troy changes the metaphor he decided best fits he and Abed's friendship, and that's Abed's number one priority right now, facing Troy in his seat and frowning deeply between valid points as he makes them.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	un-needed metaphors

It's really important that Troy changes the metaphor he decided best fits he and Abed's friendship, and that's Abed's number one priority right now, facing Troy in his seat and frowning deeply between valid points as he makes them.

Britta says, "Guys, guys," about five times before Jeff chimes in, standing up and hitting the table with his hands.

"It doesn't matter," Jeff says, loud enough that Abed actually had to stop staring down Troy and look at him, sighing deeply. Jeff squares him with a look across the table. "It really, really doesn't matter what metaphor best fits your bromance, okay? Not right now."

"Friendship," Abed corrects, holding up a hand. "And, it is important."

Troy sinks down in his seat. "It's not that important," he says, "really. The metaphor is fine as it is."

"I'm not a big fan of the cookie metaphor as it stands," Pierce says, unhelpfully, because of course he always has an opinion. Abed ignores him. Jeff sits back down in his seat heavily and Abed watches the way Britta pats his back consolingly.

Annie shuffles some papers. "We should really --" she starts.

Abed cuts her off, because he has to, "Studying can wait," he says, "this. This is important, so we should have a vote." That's what people sitting around tables usually do in the middle of an academic setting, anyway -- they decide on things through a vote, just like democracy, even though the college isn't like a democracy at all, because if it was, Abed would have seriously voted down Three-Day-Old-Banana-Pudding from the lunch menu ages ago.

Troy raises an eyebrow at him. "We're not having a vote," he says.

"This isn't a democracy," Jeff adds, which is completely not the point, and Abed opens his mouth to agrue with the points already formed in his head, but Troy leans over and puts his palm, warm, over Abed's mouth.

"Our friendship is like a cookie," Troy says, "and sometimes it's not. And now it's time to study."

Shirley makes a sound that is sort of like a coo, and Britta chimes in, so it's somewhat like there is a baby in the room they are enthralled by. Abed looks around to check.

He wants to argue that their friendship metaphor would be best described by some sort of tropical fruit or the most popular beer at local fraternity parties, but he can't actually remember why those were better options with Troy's hand still pressed against his mouth, so he shrugs.

"We'll talk about this later," he says, mostly muffled by Troy's palm. Troy shrugs and takes his hand back, wipes it on his jeans.

"No we won't," Troy says.

"Sometimes," Pierce says, as Annie starts to pass out study sheets to them all, "Troy and Muhammad are more of a married couple than Jeff and Barbie."

Everyone groans at that -- no one hears Abed's correction of his name, especially Pierce, because he's already so far beyond caring about political correctness that really no one bothers correcting him, anyway -- and Annie huffs a little and slams her book on the table before Britta can start talking about feminism and how it relates to Barbies and how being called a Barbie is an insult. Or, whatever Britta would say in response to that, but they all turn to Annie anyway and Jeff clears their throat and reads the first question on the study guide to get them started.

Abed looks over at Troy while they are taking turns reading and answering, and he plans on saying something insulting about cookies, but it's the first time the study group has joined up since the summer and the wide grin that Troy gives him when he looks over settles somewhere low in Abed's stomach -- maybe he ate his lunch weird? -- so Abed just grins back, Annie's voice filtering in somewhere in the background.

  
-

  
"What if --" Abed starts, joining Troy outside on the steps between classes when he spots him.

"I'm not having the metaphor discussion again," Troy says, cutting him off.

Abed rolls his eyes and sits next to Troy, glancing down at the problem in his math book. "Carry the three," he says, to which Troy shoves him further away. "And anyway," Abed continues, "I was just going to ask you to come with me to that Beta Phi party tonight because I _happened_ to score an invite."

He was totally going to bring up the metaphor thing again, and he doesn't actually have an invite to the party, but there are still two classes left for him and he's pretty sure he can trick someone into inviting him. Or they could sneak in.

"Really?" Troy asks. He puts his hand up for a high five and Abed slaps it, a little proud of himself. "That would be pretty cool, I guess. I thought you -- we -- were out of that whole trying to fit into a social norm in college, though."

They had said something about that last year, Abed remembers, but it doesn't matter now, because maybe if Troy drinks enough Abed could change the metaphor that represents their friendship -- a cookie really is not the right one, he's sure of it -- while his brain is not fully functioning. Abed has the best plans.

"It's a new year," Abed says, nodding mostly to himself. "What better way to start it than with a --" he searches for the best, most appealing college party word, "-- kegger."

Troy makes a face and slaps him on the back, sort of fondly like all the boys in that movie Abed watched last night that he can't quite remember the name of while sitting so close to Troy, which is becoming a problem, but it reminds him of that movie which he thought was pretty good, if not a little out-dated, so he grins and stands.

"I'll see you at eight!" he says, turned halfway towards Troy.

Troy raises an eyebrow at him and shakes his head. "Eight? That's a little early."

Abed already thought about that. He shakes his hips a little to indicate his point, "We've got to pre-game, man!" he says.

Troy sighs. "Don't say man, and I'll meet you there. We're not pre-gaming alone again."

To be fair, Abed had pre-gamed without Troy before they pre-gamed for a party last year, so technically he had pre-pre-gamed with an entire bottle of Skyy, and he didn't mean to end up passing out in Troy's lap while practicing his moves -- his lapdance moves, but they had made a pact never to speak of that again, especially within the study group -- but he did. Troy had banned all pre-gaming, at least, pre-gaming with just them, but sometimes Abed drifted off in class thinking of the way he'd really had awesome moves that night and how Troy hadn't been half as drunk as he had, but he had still held on to Abed's hips and laughed.

He doesn't think about it a lot, though.

"Alrighty," Abed says, because he's been standing and staring at Troy on the steps far longer than necessary, probably, and he's going to be late to class. He can just get Troy liquored up at the party, which he still has to figure out how to get them to, and then he'll --

For a second he completely forgets what his intentions were in the first place, walking towards the science hallway, and it doesn't hit him that it's not so he can let Troy crash in his dorm until he gets to the class and remembers it's all about the stupid cookie metaphor.

  
-

  
Abed really does try to get them into the party. He asks the dude that looks like he was born into a frat -- he probably was, like in some movie where the girl totally gives birth to her son during a frat party, and oh my god, that kid is totally the kid, even though Abed thinks maybe that movie was something he made up in his head. He should write and film it, though, and become famous for making such an awesome college movie and he'll get a ton of chicks and he'll take Troy with him to all the awesome parties and maybe they could pick out girls together or just go and live in Abed's clearly awesome house where Troy could live and -- fix things or write smart things or something.

He gets laughed at, though, by the four people he asks, and then the fifth guy punches him. To be fair, Abed let him punch him, because the guy said he could go to the party, even after the one last year where Abed puked on that girl, but that was all part of his quintessential college experience, so he didn't mind, if Abed could stay standing through the punch.

Abed totally fell down though, because he wasn't built to take punches -- he was built with the lean body of a model or an astronaut who could fit in tight spaces, or something -- and it happened in the cafeteria during dinner hours, so Troy walked in and saw.

"Jesus," Troy says, walking up to him -- he's upside down and his face looks really nice from this angle, Abed thinks, lying on the floor -- "what did you do that for?"

Shirley is behind him. She doesn't look as good as Troy upside-down. "Do I have to kick some ass?" she asks, one hand on her hip.

Abed rights himself up and his jaw hurts, a lot. "No," he says to her, "that's okay. Thanks."

Britta is standing behind him with her tray. Of course everyone had to see him get punched and no one thought to video tape it and put it on YouTube so he could become an internet sensation -- only Abed would have realized the potential and have come up with an awesome plan like that.

"Oh, Abed," Britta says, "are you alright? That dude was an asshole."

Which is true, but Abed doesn't say anything because Troy has his hand on his face, tilting him up by his chin to look at his jaw.

"I think I need ice," Abed says. "And painkillers, which are in my room." It sounds smoother in his head.

"You shouldn't walk back alone," Shirley says, her motherly concern showing through. Abed likes her a lot, and he nods, but that makes everything a little spin-y.

"I'll walk him," Troy says, taking his hand back and placing it on Abed's back instead. Abed thinks about how while he's sort of fuzzy maybe he'll be able to convince Troy to change their relationship -- friendship -- metaphor now.

  
-

  
Abed takes a few of the pills on his desk and tells Troy he got them from the weird guy down the hall, because he has his own pharmacy.

"Sometimes," Troy says, "you're really stupid."

Abed agrees, just a little, because the way Troy says it makes it seem like something he should agree to. They are both sitting on the lower part of Abed's bunk bed, and Abed has his head on Troy's shoulder because it's the only way it will stay up and also because Troy is comfortable.

"Remember that time I gave you a lapdance?" Abed asks after they are silent for a while, because his brain makes it seem like a good thing to bring up, back in his room alone and all. His head slides down Troy's shoulder until he lands gracelessly with his head in Troy's lap. Troy pats the side of his head.

"No," Troy says, and then, "yes, but we aren't talking about that."

"I had moves," Abed says, nodding to himself.

"You're on _drugs_," Troy says. He pats the top of Abed's head again but his hand sort of stays there. His thighs make a nice pillow.

"Only prescription painkillers from that guy down the hall," Abed corrects. They stay silent for a few minutes, and Abed can feel the little rhythm that Troy is tapping out with his foot against his skull. It's sort of nice.

Abed looks up at Troy upside-down again. "You know," he says, "if we -- theoretically -- kissed right now, it would be just like the kiss in the first Spiderman movie, between Peter Parker and Mary Jane, who, if anyone ever asked me, I would defend as the best canon comic book couple, and wouldn't that be weird? I've never done that, have you?" He's rambling, a little.

Troy tilts his head down and looks at Abed, upside-down but not. Straight forward? Abed doesn't know. Angles aren't his thing.

"No, I haven't," Troy says, with a somewhat long-suffering expression. Then, he looks thoughtful. "If -- theoretically -- I did, though, would that shut you up?"

Abed doesn't say anything, but he nods. He's totally a genius on prescription drugs, and it's way better than lapdances while drunk. Troy stares at him for a second and then leans down, angling his head so he's catching Abed's lips like maybe Abed is hanging from something like Spiderman, which would make Troy Mary Jane, which doesn't seem entirely accurate, but Abed certainly doesn't want to be the Mary Jane of their relationship -- he can't actually think about why, though, because Troy is pushing Abed's head closer by lifting his thigh, propelling him upward, and then they are really actually kissing and Abed feels a little more than lightheaded, and everything goes fuzzy and then black, his lips tingling.

  
-

  
Abed opens his eyes slowly and his head hurts. When he opens them, Troy is kneeling over him and staring into his face.

"Jesus," Troy says, "you fainted, are you --"

"We were kissing," Abed says, because his lips still feel like they don't belong to him. "And you were Mary Jane."

Troy backs up, "Okay, no, see -- if anyone was Mary Jane, it was you, and I was definitely Spiderman."

Abed likes this whole looking at Troy upside down. "If I agree that you are Spiderman, then, one: can that be our new metaphor? and two: can we make out some more? This is way better than in the movies. Or a frat party."

"Both metaphors are lame," Troy says, shrugging, "and this time you have to sit up, all the blood rushed to my head that way and I thought I was going to faint, but you did it first. I'm pretty sure those pills you got from the guy down the hall, which, creepy by the way, were expired."

"Probably," Abed says, sitting up way too fast. Troy catches him with a hand around his neck.

"We're going to do this?" Troy asks, somewhat uncertain.

Abed re-arranges himself on the floor. He feels like he could solve lots of really hard math problems or maybe write the next great American novel. Or marathon the rest of Entourage all in one night and not be tired; so, technically, he feels really great.

"We are," he says, nodding. "This wasn't on my list, but --"

"Who cares about your list," Troy says, and then they are kissing again, which is weird and awesome and makes sense, so Abed kisses back and this time he doesn't faint _or_ think about metaphors.


End file.
